


Lost in the Dark

by Lokisarmy0602



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Comfort, Hurt, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kidnapping, Violence, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 20,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8239513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisarmy0602/pseuds/Lokisarmy0602
Summary: Athos' grip tightened on the pistol aimed at his brother... Or was it his brother? He just didn't know anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came out of no where and I'm sorry (not sorry) for the pain

"Athos…" D'artagnan warned, hands coming up slowly in surrender to show he had no weapon and meant no harm to his brother. His eyes were fixed on the weapon in Athos' hand, his chest feeling tight in fear of what could happen.

"Don't," Athos particularly growled at the youngest member of their group, eye burning with fire. D'artagnan took a calming breath; eyes glancing towards Aramis who was slowly walking up behind the Captain, his dagger held between his teeth and hands readying to grab Athos.

Porthos watched from the table, shoulders tense and preparing to act in an instant. He saw Athos' grip on his pistol tighten, finger twitching to pull the trigger without knowing the consequences of doing so.

"Athos…" D'artagnan began again, his concern growing as he stared down the barrel of the pistol that used to be his brother's; the soldier now holding said pistol was a shell of a man, no longer knowing what was real and what wasn't.

Athos was a stable man on his good days, apparently this was one of his bad, possibly worst, days. His hand holding the pistol was shaking, which was a site his brothers had never seen before, he was normally so controlled. They had last seen him stumbling towards his house two weeks ago as they had all walked home after a few too many at their regular tavern. All three of his friends had turned in the opposite direction to head for their own homes and had been oblivious to the men waiting for Athos at the end of the street.

"You don't want to do this," D'artagnan said as Aramis took another silent step towards Athos, who had his eyes and attention purely focused on the Gascon stood in front of him.

"What do you know about what I want," Athos snapped and D'artagnan got a warning look from Porthos who had pushed up from the table and following after Aramis, both tense and readying themselves for Athos to pull the trigger.

"Athos please, it's me… D'artagnan," he said and Athos blinked at the man before shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the dizziness and confusion that was currently taking over him. It wasn't them, he thought to himself, the men are still playing tricks on you.

D'artagnan's words seem to work if only for a second, Athos' hand falling slightly to lower the barrel so it was pointing now at D'artagnan's stomach instead of his chest.

D'artagnan didn't know if he preferred being shot in the stomach or the chest. What was the likelihood of Athos missing a vital organ if he was to hit for the chest? That vital organ was D'artagnan's heart after all… Dead in an instant. However, if he was shot in the stomach there was a higher chance of Athos hitting a vital organ but it gave his brothers more time to try and save his life. It was a difficult decision, a decision that D'artagnan didn't get to make though.

Suddenly, Athos turned, whipping around to face Aramis who had been inches away from taking him down. The barrel of the pistol came to press up against Aramis' chest and the marksman opened his mouth slightly, letting the dagger fall to the ground as he froze to the spot. His hands had been out ready to grab Athos around the chest and hit his aim off if he was to shoot. However now, he swore at himself for not being quicker in his actions.

"Athos, stop this. You're not thinking straight," D'artagnan said from behind, glancing at Porthos who had his eyes fixed on Aramis, holding his breath and not daring to move in case Athos fired at his brother.

"Shut up!" Athos growled, his head snapping to the side to aim his shout back at D'artagnan.

He turned back to look at the man who had claimed to be Aramis only moments ago when Athos had stumbled into the garrison, pistol aimed at D'artagnan who had been sparring to build his strength back up with a few of the other musketeers who now stood, all watching and waiting.

"Just… All of you shut up," Athos said, his voice cracking slightly.

Porthos looked at Athos, finally acknowledging the state he was in. He wore the same shirt from two weeks ago; however it was now ripped and stained with wine… Or was it blood, Porthos couldn't tell. He had bruises covering his face and he was favouring his right side over his left. His eyes were bloodshot and pupils dilated, which could suggest the use of drugs. Porthos knew Athos too well to know the man didn't touch drugs on his own accord.

So something terrible had happened to Athos over the last two weeks. It wasn't like him to just disappear for two weeks and not tell anyone. His brothers had searched for him every day since that night, Treville having stressed this morning that they needed a days rest to get back to full strength.

Someone had drugged him, beaten him to no ends before sending him back out into the streets, confused and dazed out of his mind to know what he was doing.

They all stood, waiting for Athos' next move while holding their breaths.

They all jumped when a shot rang loud through the garrison and Porthos couldn't stop himself from shouting Aramis' name.


	2. Chapter 2

Earlier that day

Athos woke with his head throbbing and his whole body tense from the immense pain he was in. He couldn't help but let a groan slip from his lips, regretting it instantly since he knew what was about to follow.

"Finally awake I see," the leader, Tomás, said from where he sat in his usual chair against the wall opposite where Athos hung.

Tomás stood up, his cloak dropping to flow behind him as he moved through the cell with ease. He began circling Athos as if he was the predator and Athos his prey. With one gentle push against Athos' back, he was sent swinging backwards and forwards, his shoulders tensing and twitching from the strain placed on them.

Like normal, Athos kept quiet, biting down on his tongue to stop a cry from escaping his lips. He thought of his brothers, out there searching for him. Whenever he did, thinking of them three looking for him to bring him home, it always calmed his racing mind. It had kept him grounded even in the darkest of times throughout his two weeks in the enemies grip.

His body was shaking, and not from the coldness of the air that surrounded him. He knew exactly why he was shaking, his body aching- craving for what he knew was about to come next. It always did, his body now depended on it to manage. However, the nightmares and hallucinations that came with the drug was another thing.

"Shall we play another game?" Tomás asked, his voice coming awfully close to Athos' ear with his breath brushing against the musketeer's neck. It sent a shiver down Athos' spine, having little to no energy to be able to suppress it down.

He heard the door behind him swing open; the fact that it was unlocked tormented him every time he drew breath. His escape was there, he could just walk out of the cell and never look back, but it was just too far out of his reach.

"What shall it be this time? I think we've had enough of pure beating, it's never that fun repeating it too many times," Tomás said, circling back around to face Athos. His eyes flickered to the bruises that covered his face and neck, angry purple ones disappearing behind his ripped shirt.

"Do it," Tomás ordered to the man that had walked into the cell behind Athos. Suddenly, a rag was covering his mouth, the man behind holding onto Athos as he struggled to get free. He grunted and thrashed, his mind telling him to fight back and that he couldn't go under again.

However, it took a matter of seconds before the drug hit, the oh so familiar sense of calmness coming over him before the rag was removed.

His breathing slowed and vision blurred, his head rolling to the side slightly as his body eased. However, he knew it was a short lived feeling… It always was.

Tomás began talking, circling Athos yet again with a smile that made Athos' stomach twist. His laughter rang in Athos' ears as images of his brothers flashed before him.

He flinched violently as D'artagnan crumbled to the ground, blood covering his face and hands as he screamed Athos' name for help.

"You can't save them," Tomás whispered, causing Athos' breathing to hitch as he flinched away from the voice, eyes snapping shut.

The laughter drowned over him, taking over all his senses and he balled his hands up in agony. He couldn't escape Porthos' pain or D'artagnan's cries, or Aramis' wide and unfocused eyes staring at nothing.

He was on the edge of the black abyss, terrified of what he saw and screaming to help his brothers.

Suddenly, he saw a woman; brown hair and green eyes staring back at him. He froze with his mouth open slightly to draw in a shaky breath. Her fingers brushed against his cheek, her soft gently touch calming the fire that ran through Athos' veins.

It wasn't real, he told himself. She was in England starting a new life... She's not real.

Before Athos knew it, the ground was coming towards him faster than he could stop it, dirt kicking up into his face and causing him to cough.

His body was covered in sweat and his hands shook, only realising then that he was free from his bounds and had a pistol in his grip.

He glanced around, seeing the streets of Paris that he used to walk through every morning to the garrison. People walked past, sparing him a glance before continuing on with their lives.

"Shall we play another game?"

His words rang through his head and bounced around, making Athos curious and fearful of everyone watching him. They were against him; they were here purely to play a trick on him.

He stumbled to stand, his eyes wide as he tried to find his whereabouts. The garrison stood in front of him and he blinked, unsure whether to believe it or not.

He was home.

However, it had happened before. He had stumbled upon the garrison, his brothers waiting for him with smiles on their face to find that it was just another trick, another illusion to chip away at his weakening grasp on reality.

"Athos!" Someone had called the second one foot had stepped through the open gates. He flinched from how loud and how familiar it was. It was familiar in a cold way, Tomás' voice but with D'artagnan's face.

His hand came up before he knew it and he was pointing a shaking pistol at someone who should be his brother... But then again, could he even trust his own mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos, they made my day. A little more waiting to see what happened to Athos when he got to the garrison, which will be the next chapter. Hope you guys liked this chapter, do you want more about what happened to Athos in his time in the enemies grip? I might do flashbacks while he's trying to recover...


	3. Chapter 3

They all jumped when a shot rang loud through the garrison and Porthos couldn't stop himself from shouting Aramis' name.   
Everything slowed, time coming to a holt as Aramis locked eyes with Athos for a split second. He could see the pain build quickly within Athos' eyes before the man went down, the musket ball hitting just under his ribs and sending him stumbling backwards.

Porthos span around to look up at the balcony to see Treville holding a smoking pistol, face pinched in pain from having to shoot one of his boys.

D'artagnan acted the fastest and in two steps was grabbing Athos to pull the man back. Considering that Athos was clearly unstable and drugged out of his mind as well as just having been shot, the man had strength. He managed to twist himself around D'artagnan to come up behind him, grunting from the pain of doing so before his finger twitched and another shot ran through the garrison. 

D'artagnan cried out, his grip on Athos slipping suddenly as his head exploded from how close the pistol had gone off to his ear.

Athos slumped to the ground with the pain from his ribs being too much, the pistol falling from his grip to land in the mud next to him.

D'artagnan was on his knees next to him, blinking a few times to try and push back his blurring vision. His ears were ringing and his balance was off, sending him to fall onto his side with a grunt next to Athos.

He heard shouting come from Porthos, calling a name. A name that wasn't his and it wasn't Athos'. He blinked again, forcing himself up on shaking arms to see Aramis on the ground, Porthos next to him with his hands pressing down on the bleeding wound on Aramis' shoulder. 

"Aramis..." D'artagnan mumbled, his mind still unfocused and foggy as the ringing continued to grow. He drew one hand up to press against his left ear, meeting blood and wincing from the pain. 

Suddenly, everything came rushing back as time flew forward; the ability to hear again washing over him like a wave. 

"Stay with me, Aramis," Porthos said and the medic's hands came up to try and push Porthos away. 

.I'm fine… Athos..." Aramis simply mumbled, lifting his head up from the ground and trying to get to his fallen brother. 

"Treville's got him," Porthos said before moving to help get Aramis up. 

D'artagnan's vision was suddenly blocked by Treville who came skidding to his knees on the other side of Athos, hands coming down to press on the slowly bleeding wound.

"D'artagnan!" Treville snapped and the young Gascon realised then that the Captain had been calling for him a few times now. 

"Humm?" He responded, his mind swimming and the ringing in his ears still making it hard to hear properly. 

"Help me get him to the treatment room," Treville said and it took D'artagnan awhile to register what Treville was asking.   
He began to move, his brain finally getting his arms and legs to work. He pushed down the wave of dizziness he felt as he stood, supporting a half conscious Athos by his side. The two struggled to the treatment room, Porthos trailing behind with a groaning Aramis. 

"I'm fine," Aramis said, pushing away from Porthos and instantly regretting it. The pain that flared up from his right shoulder caused a small groan to escape his lips. 

"Of course you are," Porthos growled in frustration as D'artagnan and Treville got Athos onto the table, laying him down and both grimacing as Athos cried out in pain. 

Aramis came to stand next to the table, hands gripping the edge and taking a steadying breath. D'artagnan faced him on the other side, hands hovering over Athos as if he wanted to help but didn't know how. 

"He’ll be alright?" D'artagnan asked Aramis. His words seemed to snap the medic out of his daze and quickly move closer, hands coming down to press against Athos’ bleeding wound and ignoring his own throbbing injury.  
“I need fresh water, clean bandages and a stitching kit,” Aramis listed off as he got to work ripping Athos’ shirt off, wincing from the pull on his own injury.   
“On it,” D’artagnan said, quickly moving around the room to carry out Aramis’ orders. 

"Stay with me Athos," Aramis said as he moved round to Athos' right shoulder. He lifted Athos up with the help of Porthos to be able to feel for an exit wound. "You're lucky," Aramis said, glancing up at Treville who stood hovering at the end of the table. "There's an exit wound," he told them and they all let out a collect breath that they had been holding.

"I had to do it," Treville began and Aramis sent a glare towards him.

"We'll talk about it after I've saved his life," Aramis said, his voice low and in a warning to Treville, who knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation. 

D'artagnan came rushing over, a bowl of water in hands and a medical kit held under his right arm. He was breathing heavier than normal and caused Aramis to look up at him, noticing the blood running down the side of D’artagnan’s face.  
“You’re hurt,” Aramis stated and D’artagnan shook his comment off as Athos began to stir. "Hold him still," Aramis ordered as Athos tried to sit up, mumbling something inaudible and eyes frantically scanning the room. Porthos leaned down on Athos’ shoulders, holding him down as Treville grabbed his legs.

"Stop..." Athos mumbled, his eyes flickering closed and trying to rid himself of the plaguing nightmare that he was currently in. "Please... No more!" He suddenly cried, lashing out to have Porthos hold him back down to the table. 

Athos couldn't think straight, the pain was too much and his head was swarming with images of his brothers who were too far away and of a woman who was even further away. All he knew was his captures were yet again coming down on him, taking his mind in play and tormenting him until he broke. 

"Athos," a distance voice called and he found himself drawn to it. It felt familiar; it felt safe in some way. He titled his head slightly, moaning as a response to this voice. 

"It’s me, Porthos. I need you to stay with us, alright," the voice said and Athos blinked his eyes open, meeting the face of Tomás. He flinched violently which sent a flare of pain come shooting up from his shoulder and swearing in Spanish to echo around the room.

It was Aramis. 

He was safe, of course he was. His brothers would never abandon him, not when he needed them the most.   
“Hold. Him. Still,” Aramis snapped again as his fingers fumbled slightly while stitching, Athos pulling against him and making the task even more difficult. 

The laughter began ringing in Athos’ ears again, suffocating him and making his chest tighten. He tried to draw in air but found himself gasping at nothing. 

"He can't breathe," D'artagnan cried, shaking with worry and fear for his mentor and brother.

"He's having nightmare, probably the drugs," Aramis informed them as he tried his best to clean and stitch up the entrance wound. 

"Do something," D'artagnan pleaded and Porthos felt his heart break at the sight of the poor lad. 

“Hold,” Aramis said to D’artagnan, holding out the needle for him to take. Aramis then moved closer to Athos, seeing how his face was pinched in pain. Aramis suddenly slapped the man across the cheek. Athos flinched, his eyes snapping open and breathing becoming laboured. He sucked in a breath through gritted teeth before his eyes frantically glancing around the room, landing on Porthos.   
A small frown appear on his face before Athos shook his head from side to side, shaking out what he thought was drug induced images of his brother.   
“I had to shock him,” Aramis said is response to D’artagnan’s confused look of how a slap causes Athos to breathe again.  
D’artagnan passed the needle back to Aramis who finished stitching before beginning to work on the exit wound. It proved a more difficult task than thought. Athos wouldn't stop thrashing, trying desperately to get away from who he thought where his captures hold on him. 

Porthos swallowed thickly as he pinned Athos down, particularly laying his upper body on Athos to restrict the swordsman's movements. His heart ached for his brother, hating himself for not having found Athos earlier. What this whole ordeal was going to do to Athos was another question. 

The clank of the needle dropping into the water bowl brought them all back to reality, Aramis finally having patched Athos up. 

"What now?" D'artagnan asked helplessly, stood by Athos' head and staring down at the now awfully silent man. His hand came up to gently stroke the few strands of hair that had fallen to cover Athos' face and tuck them behind the swordsman's ear. 

"We wait," Aramis said, cleaning his blood covered hands with a rag and finally becoming aware of the flaring pain in his shoulder. 

"What about when the drugs wear off?" Porthos asked and Aramis' gave them both a saddening look. 

"It's going to be a long night," Aramis said before turning to look at Treville who had shut the door to give them privacy, ushering the other musketeers who had been stood watch back to work. 

"We could have lost him," Aramis began. 

"Would you rather him have shot you in the chest?" Treville asked and Aramis raised his head as a challenge, unable to stop his anger from taking over… Screw the fact that he was talking to his Captain, he was going to give the man a piece of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this chapter, but I hope it lives up to expectations. Thank you so much for the reviews, they make my day and help me continue writing this. Next update won't be for another week, going on holiday tomorrow :) Thanks again for the support.


	4. Chapter 4

Porthos moved around the table where the now unconscious Athos laid, his head to the side with D'artagnan stood by him. 

"Aramis," Porthos warned, a hand coming to rest on Aramis' uninjured shoulder. He could see the blood staining Aramis' shirt, how he held his left arm to his side and how he was swaying slightly. 

"I'm fine," Aramis responded, about to take a step toward D'artagnan as he was growing more concerned over the youngest of their group's injuries. However, the second he began to move his knees buckled and a wave of dizziness took over him.

If it wasn't for Porthos' quick reactions Aramis would have been face first on the floor. 

"Sit down," Porthos ordered, his arm wrapped around Aramis' waist to hold him up. Treville moved to grab a chair for him, dragging it over quickly. "Now," Porthos added when he saw Aramis was about to argue. 

The marksman simply sighed before sitting down in the chair, allowing Porthos to help him pull his shirt off. 

"I need to check D'artagnan over," Aramis said weakly, beginning to make a stand but Porthos held him back down in the chair. 

"You're the one currently bleeding to death Aramis," D'artagnan said, turning his head to look back at him. 

"You're the one that looks like death D'artagnan," the medic grumbled in reply, seeing how D'artagnan was pale and was covered in sweat. "I need to check your hearing," he said as Porthos began to check his shoulder.

"I'm fine," D'artagnan particularly growled in frustration. 

"Just let Porthos clean you up first Aramis," Treville said, crouching down next to him and looking at the gunshot wound.

"There's no exit wound," Porthos then stated. 

"Great," Aramis grumbled, sighing and leaning back to get more comfortable. "Just do it," he then added when Porthos gave him a weary look.   
Aramis decided to distract himself with his anger towards Treville instead, trying terribly hard to not cry out in pain as Porthos worked his way at getting the musket ball out of his shoulder. 

"It was for his own safety and yours," Treville snapped after Aramis asked why he had done it. Treville was clearly as angry as Aramis was with the whole situation and as worried for his injured comrade.

"So you thought shooting him was the best way? If you had been an inch out he could well have died," Aramis snapped back, clearly not bothering to acknowledge the fact that Treville may have just saved him from a musket ball in the chest. 

"Well I wasn't off was I," Treville said.

"Captain we all due respect, but what if you had?" D’artagnan asked and Treville turned his icy glare onto the Gascon. 

"I was thinking of my men, I was thinking of you," Treville said, glancing back to Aramis. "And I was thinking of him," he said, gaze flickering down to Athos' pale face. 

"You still risked his life," Aramis snapped before flinching and groaning in pain, Porthos having final pulling the ball out.

"You're on dangerous ground here Aramis, you should stop now," Treville warned and Aramis bit the inside of his cheek, trying to restrain his anger. 

Aramis would give his life to save one of his brothers, but didn't want them risking their own for his sorry ass. He couldn't stand seeing his brother like this, sweat covering Athos' beaten body and face pinched in pain. 

"Was that a threat?" Aramis asked as Porthos began cleaning his wound, causing him to flinch away and hiss in pain. 

"Sorry," Porthos mumbled but his apology was drowned out by Treville. 

"It can be," Treville replied to Aramis who gritted his teeth together, hands balling into fists. 

"Look at him," Aramis then said, taking a different approach to, he would like to say, the conversation not argument. "Athos was already in a weak state and then you go and shoot him. D'artagnan was making a move and would have stopped him without him having a musket ball in the ribs," Aramis said and could see the guilt in Treville's eyes. 

"I did what I thought was best, what I thought would save you both and not have you bleeding on the floor and Athos sent to hang," Treville said and his words seemed to hit D'artagnan hard. The Gascon's head snapped up from looking down at Athos to send a glare at Treville. 

"Shut up. Both of you. Do you really think this is helpful at this time?" D'artagnan asked them both, gaze flickering from one to the other. 

Silence fell in the room, Porthos keeping his gaze down at his work and Aramis glancing towards the ground. 

Treville suddenly turned on his heels and strode towards the door. 

"I'll go set up a room for him," Treville said, knowing Athos wouldn't be able to recover lying on the medical table, and with that Treville left, the door slamming shut behind him. 

D'artagnan sighed before blinking back blurred vision, the sudden burst of energy hitting him hard and taking its toll on him. 

"I need to sit down," he then said and both Porthos and Aramis glanced up at him suddenly, both looking at him with such concern.

Porthos reacted first, pushing an injured Aramis to stay sat in his chair before moving to help D'artagnan over to another chair by the table of medical equipment. 

"You alright?" Porthos asked, crouching down in front of D’artagnan who D'artagnan nodded, which he regretted instantly. 

"Just a little dizzy," he managed to mumble out. He could feel Aramis' watchful gaze boring into the side of his head, full of concern and itching to check his brother over.

Before either of them could reply, a groan sounded from Athos and all three of them quickly turned around to look at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, hope it was worth it. Thank you for the reviews and kudos :)


	5. Chapter 5

A groan escaped from Athos as he slowly but surely regained consciousness. He felt like his body was on fire, pain racking through him and causing yet another groan of pain to escape.

His eyes flickered open to blink back the harsh light of his surroundings. He was met with the ceiling, heart hammering against his chest as his hearing and other senses slowly came back to him.

His breathing hitched as he noticed he was lying on a table, ribs aching from what Athos recognised was the too familiar pain of a musket wound.

Suddenly his vision was blocked by Porthos, leaning over him with a concerned look. Athos thought of the worst, believing the sight of his brother wasn't true.

It wasn't him; they were playing tricks on you.

"Athos..." Porthos' voice broke through to him and Athos' snapped his eyes closed, shaking his head slightly.

"No," he mumbled and Porthos glanced across at Aramis in concern, who was currently trying to stand up,

"Athos, look at me," Porthos said, a gentle hand going to rest on his brother's shoulder. Athos flinched away from Porthos' touch, eyes snapping open and breathing heavy as another wave of pain washed over him from the sudden movement.

Porthos could see the pain in Athos' eyes, the confusion that lanced the man's features and the sense of fear was radiating from him.

"It's me, Porthos," he began seeing the frown slowly forming on Athos' face.

"Porthos..." He mumbled before a sudden crash came from behind. Porthos' head snapped up to find Aramis sat on the ground, chair pushed back from where he had stumbled backwards into it.

"I'm fine," Aramis breathed as Porthos moved over to him. "Just lost my balance," he added and Porthos gave him a look of warning.

D'artagnan moved to stand, a little steadier on his feet than Aramis and managed to get to Athos' side without stumbling sideways.

"I need to check on him," Aramis mumbled and Porthos sighed but helped his injured brother up to check on his other injured brother.

"Does he know where he is?" D'artagnan asked as he looked down at Athos who had his eyes closed once again but was awake, his mind running as adrenaline began to build up.

"That, I do not know," Aramis replied as he and Porthos moved to the other side of the table. "Athos?" He then asked gently, leaning over the table to look down at him.

Athos took some time to respond but his eyes flickered open and focused on Aramis' face. It was a while until Athos registered who was talking to him, connecting the face with the name.

"Aramis..." He mumbled and Aramis smiled down at him.

"How you feeling?" Aramis asked and Athos took a steadying breath before replying.

"Like I've been shot," he grumbled and Aramis glanced up at D'artagnan, their eyes locking for a brief second before looking back down at Athos.

"Technically you were... By Treville," D'artagnan said and Athos frowned, his mind foggy and his memories all blurring into one another.

Realisation settled in and Athos glanced towards Aramis, his gaze flickering towards the medic's bandaged shoulder, the white material strained slightly with red.

"I shot you," he stated, eyes widening slightly.

"It was nothing, you were confused... Disorientated," Aramis said with a soft smile to reassure Athos he was fine, which did nothing for the man. He closed his eyes, his face pinched in pain.

"I still... I still did it," he mumbled out before trying to push himself up.

"Hey, take it easy," Porthos said, moving his arm from around Aramis to help Athos sit up. He noticed that Athos was beginning to shake, sweat dripping down his body and his skin warm to touch. "Aramis…" Porthos said in concern.

The medic leant forward slightly, placing an open palm on Athos' forehead which caused a deep frown to appear on his face.

"You need to rest," Aramis said and was about to push Athos back down when the man winced in pain, causing him to fall backwards onto the table. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Aramis looked up at Porthos and D'artagnan, nodding his head towards the other side of the room.

"He's going through withdrawal," Aramis stated once they were out of earshot and D'artagnan glanced behind at Athos.

"What do we do?" Porthos asked as D'artagnan ran a hand through his hair.

"We help him, keep his temperature down and make sure he doesn't hurt himself… or anyone else," D'artagnan said and Porthos nodded.

"We need fresh water and... Emm," Aramis began but lost his train of thought.

"You need to rest, you've lost a lot of blood," Porthos said and Aramis shook his head.

"I'm fine, trust me."

"Trust me, you're not," Treville said from the doorway. They glanced across at him and Aramis turned away, eyes looking down to the ground.

He could feel the tension between them and could feel the guilt slowly building up within him. He knew Treville was doing what he thought was right, he just hated seeing his brother injured.

"Let's get Aramis to his room, as well as Athos," Treville said and moved to help.

It was a challenging task but they eventually got both Aramis and Athos up to their rooms in the garrison.

D'artagnan stepped out of Athos' room, leaving the door open to be able to keep check off Athos. Porthos was waiting out on the balcony, looking more tired and drained than he did before. They all hadn't slept well ever since Athos was taken, unable to sleep knowing their brother was out there in pain.

"I'll look after him," D'artagnan said once he met Porthos on the balcony. The larger musketeer gave him a look as if to say are you sure? "Aramis needs to stay in that bed, you're the best suited out of the two of us to do that... Besides, I've been with Athos before like this," D'artagnan said, remembering the time Athos went through a dry spell with the wine.

"You can handle it?" Porthos asked and D'artagnan nodded, regretting it instantly due to it sending the world off balance.

"I'll shout if I need you," D'artagnan then said once he took a steadying breath. Porthos gave him a small frown up didn't push, simply squeezing D'artagnan's shoulder before leaving and going next door to Aramis' room.

A groan from behind broke him from his thoughts and he turned to see Athos trying to get out of bed.

"Hey, none of that," D'artagnan said, walking into the room and gently pushing Athos back down.

The man's eyes flickered open to stare blankly back at D'artagnan, his mind ticking away as if trying to put the face with the name.

The frown on his face was quickly replaced, a violent shiver running through his body as his eyelids slipped closed shut once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reviews and kudos. Sorry it was a slight wait for this chapter, I hope to get the next chapter up sooner. Plus, I'm still trying to figure this story out...


	6. Chapter 6

_The door slammed open and Athos flinched, his eyes snapping open and his breath hitching. He laid where they had left him, beaten and bruised with every inch of his body aching._

_It took him a while to focus on the man in front of him but he knew who it was._

_He crouched down in front of Athos, titling his head to one side as if to study the broken and drugged musketeer._

_"You had enough time to think?" Tomás asked. Athos took a steadying breath, opening his mouth to speak and hoping his voice didn't crack._

_"I've had enough time... Time to think off the multiple ways I'm going to kill you," Athos growled out, cursing himself he had to take a breath in between. Tomás smirked down at him, allowing a low chuckle to escape his lips._

_"You know, I'm quite glad I decided to take you and not your protégé, D'artagnan," he replied and Athos glared up at the man, his words striking something in Athos and causing a rise from him._   
_He balled his hands up into fists and managed to push himself up from the ground and land a punch against Tomás' face._

_The man fell backwards onto the ground, one hand going up to wipe away the blood running from his broken nose._

_"What do you want?!" Athos snapped and Tomás grinned at him._

_"D'artagnan," he simply replied and Athos paused, leaning back slightly and raising his head. Fear for his brother's life suddenly rose within him, he needed to get out of here. He needed to get to D'artagnan and make sure he was alright._

_He slumped back slightly, dizziness taking over him from the sudden rush of adrenaline. The drugs running through him weren't helping with him getting his head around things. He couldn't think straight and was struggling to see the smirk on Tomás' face._

_"What have you done with him?" Athos asked, his voice barely a whisper._

_"Nothing yet," Tomás replied before pulling himself up to crouch by Athos once again._

_"Why?"_

_"You're little friend has made quite a lot of enemies in his past with his quick temper; I mean we were supposed to take him but one of my men, who sadly isn't with us anymore, got it wrong and we got you instead," Tomás began to inform Athos. "Not that I'm complaining anymore, you're more fun to torment," Tomás said before rising to a stand, looming over Athos to assert his dominance._

_"What did he do to you?" Athos asked and Tomás' lips curved up into an evil smile._

_"All in good time... Now, you have to repay for your little outburst back then," Tomás said before calling in his men who was waiting outside._

_Pain came a few moments later, a crack from his nose being broken, his ribs throbbing in protest from the boot slamming into them._

_His breathing hitched and he coughed, trying to draw in a breath but failing miserably at it._

* * *

D'artagnan didn't know how long he had been asleep for but he knew it hadn't been long, the sun was still down and the candle by Athos' bedside was still burning brightly. His back was aching and shoulder tense from being cramped up in the chair.

His eyes shot open when he heard a loud gasp and then mumbling coming from Athos.

D'artagnan pushed forward and came to stand, leaning over Athos who began gasping for air.  
"Athos," D'artagnan said, a hand going to gently touch the man's shoulder. Before his hand got there he could feel the heat radiating from his Captain, fear rising up within him.

"Athos?" D'artagnan asked, shaking him slightly in hopes to wake him from his nightmare. Sweat covered Athos' body and his sheets were damp slightly from it. Athos' head thrashed from side to side, trying to push himself from the nightmare that threaten to pull him over the edge.

"Athos!" D'artagnan snapped and the Captain's eyes finally opened. Before D'artagnan could even react, a fist was flying his way and D'artagnan stumbled backwards, his hands going to grab his nose.

He swore from the pain as Athos rolled onto his side, blinking back blurred vision and his breathing rapid. He tried to push up and lean over the bed, his arms shaking from trying to hold his weight up.  
D'artagnan took a second to register what Athos was trying to do before he suddenly jumped into action.

He grabbed the bucket Aramis had made sure was by the bed and brought it up to Athos.

The man gripped the edge of the bucket with shaky hands and brought up the contents in his stomach, D'artagnan moving to sit on the bed while holding the bucket steady for him. He rubbed circles on Athos' back, showing him that D'artagnan was there and trying to ease the man's pain.

When Athos settled back down, he let out a groan and rolled back onto his back to stare blankly up at the ceiling.

D'artagnan couldn't help but notice the dark bags under Athos' eyes or the sweat dripping down the side of his forehead or how he was shaking from the cold but was burning hot.

"Athos?" D'artagnan asked again, his voice a soft whisper as if to not startle him.

It took him a while to register someone had called his name but Athos finally drew his eyes away from the ceiling to rest on his brother.

"D'artagnan?" Athos replied, a frown appearing on his face. D'artagnan smiled down at him, trying to not let concern for his Captain show... Athos was going to be fine.

"D'artagnan," Athos repeated, this time a little more confident it was him. "They wanted you," Athos mumbled, his hand moving to grip D'artagnan's arm rather tightly.

"Who? The men that took you?" He asked and Athos hummed, his grip slacking and hand falling to the bed once again.

"I didn't break, I couldn't let... Let them get to you," Athos said, his eyes moving to look at the ceiling again. His breathing hitched and his chest suddenly felt tight as if someone was pressing down on him.

Athos' eyes rolled into the back of his head, his eyes closing and face pinched in pain.

"You're going to be ok," D'artagnan said, moving to sit further up the bed and brush the strains of hair sticking to Athos' face out of the way.

The rest of the night was long, Athos' fever didn't go however it didn't raise which was a benefit. The bucket was needed a few more times and D'artagnan's calming words helped Athos through it all.  
It was early morning when D'artagnan woke, having slept for a mere couple of minutes, to grunting and thrashing.

He acted in seconds, moving to Athos who was throwing punches and trying to get out of bed.

"Get away from him!" Athos shouted as he managed to pull himself up to sit. D'artagnan ducked a punch aimed at someone in Athos' nightmares, his heart hammering against his chest in fear for his Captain.

D'artagnan managed to grab Athos, pulling him against his chest and pinning his arms to his side. Athos tried to get out of his grip, his back pressed against D'artagnan's chest and using any means necessary to get away from his brother.

"It's just a nightmare," D'artagnan said, mostly to himself as he held Athos down.

It pained him to see his brother like this, so broken and tormented. It also angered him. Whoever had done this to him, D'artagnan was going to make them pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reviews and the kudos, they make my day. I don't really know what's happening with this story but it's going somewhere. Let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you have any ideas for where this story could go :)


	7. Chapter 7

Porthos woke up early in the morning, back aching from sleeping in cramped over in the chair next to Aramis' bed. He looked over at said man to see Aramis pushing himself up from the bed, arms shaking from the weight and breathing slightly laboured.

"Aramis," Porthos warned, quickly moving over and wrapping an arm around Aramis' waist to steady him.

"I need to check on Athos," he mumbled out and Porthos shook his head slightly.

"He's fine, D'artagnan's with him. If he needs us he'll shout," Porthos said and it took a little more persuading but he eventually got Aramis back into bed.

"You can't hold me here forever you know," Aramis said in a matter of fact tone which only caused Porthos to give him a raised eyebrow in response.

"Until you've healed," Porthos then said and Aramis rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine, Athos is in worse shape than me," Aramis said, slumping against the headboard of his bed and giving Porthos his best unimpressed Athos look.

"You're no good passing out on us now are you," Porthos questioned and Aramis had to admit his brother was right.

"Fine, but only for a few more hours," Aramis finally gave in. "Could you get me some water?" Aramis asked and Porthos stood, moving from the chair and over to the table.

Suddenly, Aramis was up and at the door before Porthos even had a chance to register what had just happened.

"Aramis!" He shouted and followed after the marksman, concerned for Aramis after seeing him stumble out the room.

* * *

D'artagnan looked up suddenly when the door swung open and Aramis came striding in. His face was paler than usual and was covered in sweat. However, he had determination in his eyes and his shoulders pulled back.

"You should be in bed," D'artagnan simply stated and Aramis didn't even spare him a look as he made his way over to Athos, who D'artagnan had just managed to get back into bed.

"How is he?" Aramis asked, leaning over a sleeping Athos with his hand coming to rest on Athos' forehead to check his temperature.

"He's been worse," D'artagnan said and Aramis glanced up at the Gascon.

"His temperature is still slightly high," the medic stated, looking back down at Athos as Porthos moved over. "At least his wound isn't suffering from infection," Aramis said once he had checked Athos' injury.

"Has he said anything?" Porthos asked and he noticed how D'artagnan's shoulders slumped slightly.

"Only a few words," D'artagnan said, the guilt slowly eating away at him. "He... he said they wanted me," D'artagnan struggled to get out, feeling both Aramis and Porthos glance up to look at him.

"What do you mean?" Porthos asked and D'artagnan turned, beginning to pace up and down the side of Athos' bed.

"The men that took him wanted me. They must have got it wrong, taken Athos instead or... Or taken him to get to me," D'artagnan explained and Porthos moved around the bed, grabbing D'artagnan by the shoulders and holding him still.

"Look at me," Porthos ordered and D'artagnan took his time to lift his eyes up from the floor. "This is not your fault," Porthos told him and D'artagnan turned away, causing Porthos' grip on his shoulders to drop.

"They wanted me," he stressed. "Athos went through all this because of me," he said, his voice cracking slightly towards the end. He slumped into the chair next to Athos' bed with a sigh, eyes fixed on the sleeping musketeer with an elbow propped on the armrest, fingers at his mouth as he fought back tears.

"D'artagnan," Aramis finally spoke, causing the Gascon to look up at him. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop blaming yourself," Aramis began, giving D'artagnan a knowing look. "Athos wouldn't want you to. You can't think that this is your fault, I won't allow you to. Those men... They did this to get to you, to get to all of us," he said and D'artagnan took a steadying breath, allowing his eyes to briefly close and his head to rest back against the chair.

"I need some air," D'artagnan suddenly said, jumping to a stand and walking out the room in five quick strides.

Porthos watched him go before his eyes flickered over to Aramis. The medic nodded once, a sign to tell Porthos to go. The larger musketeer hesitated for a second, eyes glancing down the Aramis' injury before locking eyes with the marksman. The look of determination Aramis gave him told Porthos that D'artagnan needed him more than Aramis did, so he turned and allowed Aramis to look after Athos.

Aramis went and took up rest in the chair D'artagnan had just left, eyes falling to look down at Athos' vulnerable form.

"Wake up," Aramis mumbled, leaning forward and gripping the cross around his neck. "We need you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait with this chapter, hope it wasn't too long. Thank you for the reviews and the kudos, next chapter will be up sooner, I promise. Tell me what you thought of this chapter :)


	8. Chapter 8

Aramis would never back down from a fight, he was strong and could take any man down if it was for a good reasons... Or maybe after a few drinks in the local tavern. However, he had to admit that he was struggling to win this one.

He had Athos' back pinned against his chest where they stood in the middle of his room, Athos' weak form putting up an awfully good fight against him.

  
It had been mere minutes after Porthos had left to catch up with  D'artagnan when Athos had started mumbling. He was sick into the bucket by his bedside before he started scrambling to stand, mumbling something about needing to move and feeling trapped.

  
It could only end in disaster, Athos' legs giving way and Aramis' quick reactions saving him from having a painful relationship with the floor.

  
"Athos, I need you to snap out of it," Aramis grumbled, knowing Athos wouldn't listen being too deep in the nightmare and the pain that was consuming him.  
Athos needed wine, anything to take the pain away even just for a second.

  
He most have said it aloud because moments later he was being forced a cup to his lips and he could smell the oh so familiar smell of wine. He gulped it down greedily and for a brief second it work, the wine hitting the back of his throat and making his aching body ease.

  
However, it was only for a brief second before the pain returned and he found himself trying to curl up as if to get away from it. He felt cheated, the one time he needed wine to drowned his pain and sorrows it had failed him.

  
"Athos," a pained voice managed to break through to him and his senses slowly came back to him. Arms wrapped around him, holding him down. Out of instinct he thrashed, managing to knock an elbow back into his captive's chest before he found himself stumbling forward, crashing to his knees and gripping at his bed sheets while sinking to the ground with a groan.

  
Aramis stumbled slightly, trying to catch his breath after Athos has quite forcefully knock it out of him. Seconds later Aramis' saviour came in the form of their Captain, opening the door and coming to a holt once he took in the scene.

  
"Need help?" Treville asked and with an unamused look from Aramis, the two eventually got Athos back in bed and nearly asleep. The injured man mumbled a few things, tossing his head from side to side but other than that he was steady.

  
Aramis checked his brothers injuries and thanked God that his needlework hadn't been ruined within Athos' struggle.

  
"You're bleeding," Treville stated once he saw the faint blood stains on the white bandage around Aramis' shoulder.

  
"It's nothing," the medic replied, checking Athos' temperature.

  
"Sit," Treville ordered with such command and strength that there was no room to protest.

  
Aramis gave Athos a longing look before sitting down at the small table, Treville pulling up a chair to sit next to him and restitch and redress Aramis' wound. They fell into silence as Treville worked, only a few hisses of pain coming from Aramis and a groan or mumble from Athos every once in a while.

  
"Sorry," Aramis finally mumbled out, unable to cope with the tension between them both.

  
Treville glanced across at him before focusing on bandaging Aramis' shoulder back up.

  
"No need to be," Treville simply replied, keeping his eyes fixed on his work.

  
"You were only doing what you thought was right in the moment," Aramis said, fed up with the guilt of being angry at his Captain getting to him.

  
"And you were just thinking about Athos' safety. Both our reactions are understandable," Treville said and Aramis nodded in agreement.

  
"I feel I may have been too harsh on you," he said and Treville gave him a look.

  
"I can handle it," he simply said, tucking the extra bit of bandage away and leaning back to survey his work.

  
"Good job," Aramis said with a tease of a smirk on his lips. "Not as good as mine but... still pretty good," he added and Treville simple shook his head before standing.

  
"Get some rest Aramis," he ordered before glancing at Athos to make sure the man was settled before turning to leave.

  
Aramis sighed, leaning back into the chair and watching Athos sleep, hoping the worst was over with... For now, anyway. 

* * *

Porthos found D'artagnan in the stables, brushing down Athos' horse, Roger, a few minutes after he had walked out.

  
"I don't want to talk," D'artagnan said as Porthos walked in. The larger musketeer sighed as he leant against the doorframe.

  
"That's a first," Porthos said with a small hint of humour, which sadly didn't have the desired effect on the Gascon he had wished it would have. He got a more annoyed look from D'artagnan instead.

  
"I don't need you saying this isn't my fault-"

  
"Because you know it isn't," Porthos finished, pushing up from the doorframe and moving over to stand on the opposite side of Athos' horse, looking across the horse's back at D'artagnan.

  
"Have you seen the state Athos is in? What I did caused those men to do that to him," D'artagnan said, causing Porthos to glance down at Roger, stroking a hand across the animals main.

  
"What happened?" Porthos said after a few moments silence, making D'artagnan pause and glance up at his brother.

  
"I don't know," he mumbled out before letting his shoulders slump and walk over to the small table. He sat down on one of the chairs not covered in riding equipment, Porthos joining him seconds later.

  
"There are a few things," he began, earning a raised eyebrow from Porthos. "A got into some trouble in Gascony when I was a kid but nothing major... However, there was one thing. It was an accident of course," D'artagnan seemed to struggle to get the right words out and Porthos waited patiently for him to continue. "Tomás. I remember his name, one of the neighbour's sons... His brother, Édouard, he forced himself onto my friend, Annabelle... I stopped him... Stopped him a little more than I should have," D'artagnan's voice cracked towards the end as he looked down at the ground in what looked like shame.

  
It took Porthos a few moments to digest what D'artagnan had said before it all clicked.

  
"You... You killed him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the wait, hope it was worth it. The next chapter will be up quicker this time, I promise. Tell me what you thought of this chapter please :)


	9. Chapter 9

"You... You killed him?" Porthos asked, his eyebrows drawn into a frown. D'artagnan took a shaky breath in, glancing at the ground and trying to get his memories correct in his mind.

"It was an accident," D'artagnan began and Porthos leant back in his chair. "I was so angry, I couldn't control it. I remember telling myself to stop but... I just... I just kept beating him," D'artagnan said and dropped his head into his hands, tears welling up in his eyes.

Porthos moved from his chair to crouch in front of D'artagnan, a hand coming to rest on his brother's shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze.

"What that man did was wrong, he would have been hung if he was caught. What's happened to Athos is not your fault, your actions back then and those mens actions now are completely different. You can't allow it to get to you because it will drive you into doing something you'll regret," Porthos said softly to him and D'artagnan dropped his hands, glancing up at Porthos with red eyes.

"I'm sorry," D'artagnan mumbled and Porthos shook his head.

"Let's get back to Athos, hopefully Aramis has been able to handle him while we were gone," Porthos said, drawing D'artagnan up to stand and giving him a hug of reassurance before moving out of the stables.

* * *

Athos was slowly but surely coming back around. He took in a steadying breath as his senses came back to him, the pain breaking through and causing a groan to escape his lips.

"Athos?" A voice suddenly asked from his left.

He focused on the hint of concern lanced within the tone, recognising it as Aramis. He felt relief flood over him from his brother's voice however he needed to process things, get events in his head sorted out right.

It took him time but he finally managed to open his eyes, blinking slightly to adjust to the brightness of his room.

"Hey, he's waking up," Aramis said again and Athos heard shuffling around him before his vision was swarmed with three concerned looking musketeers.

They all suddenly smiled down at him as he simply blinked up at them, trying to suppress the pain that was flaring through his body.

He needed wine and a lot of it.

"What..." Athos broke off, his voice rough. "What happened?" He asked after swallowing thickly, his throat dry and burning for some water. He glanced at Aramis, seeing the pain behind the soft smile on the marksman's face. Athos caught the glance Aramis gave to Porthos then to D'artagnan before his eyes landed back on Athos.

"You don't remember?" Aramis asked and Athos frowned slightly before waving for them to help him sit up.

It was a struggle but he eventually got up to sit, letting out a groan as he rested against the headboard.

"I remember... Tomás," Athos began, forcing himself to not crack from the haunting memories. "He was the leader," Athos said before closing his eyes briefly to get his head around things. "He wanted D'artagnan... Someone helped me out of that place, the next thing I know I'm... I'm in the garrison and it all goes black," Athos told them and he glanced over at D'artagnan who had his eyes fixed to the floor, face pale and looking drained.

"What happened?" Athos asked again, his voice stronger this time, and looked over at Aramis, knowing the marksman would tell him.

"You were slightly delusional, tried to shoot us. Treville stopped you of course, shot to the ribs... In the struggle to get you to stop, you accidentally shot me," Aramis told him. "No harm done though," he quickly added once he saw Athos' face drop and go paler than it already was.

"I shot you?" Athos asked after a few moments of silence. Aramis simply smiled at him, glad to have his brother back.

"It was quite a dramatic experience actually," Aramis replied with a smirk and Athos glanced down to the bed, a small frown on his face as he tried and failed to piece everything together.

"How are you feeling?" Porthos asked, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, facing him.

"I've been better," Athos said dryly as Aramis moved to get him a drink. "But I've also been worse," he added and Porthos smiled at him, relieved to see that his brother was on the rise again.

"Do you remember anything of what happened to you? Why Antonio wanted D'artagnan?" Aramis asked and Athos took the cup of water handed to him with shaking hands.

"No, all I found out was that they wanted D'artagnan... Said you're temper got you in trouble a few years back; made a lot of enemies apparently," Athos said, glancing to D'artagnan who was still looking at the ground.

The younger musketeer drew his eyes up from counting the floorboards to meet Athos' tired and pain filled eyes.

"We all knew his temper was no good," Aramis teased, trying to lightened the dull mood that hung over them all.

It sadly didn't work.

"I'm sorry," D'artagnan mumbled and Athos frowned at him.

"It's not your fault, D'artagnan," he replied and the Gascon shook his head.

"No it is, I was foolish and it nearly got you killed," he said and Porthos gripped his shoulder.

"Tell them," he said seriously and D'artagnan paused, taking a breath.

"It was a long time ago," he began but wondered off as he struggled to find the right words. He stood up and began to pace, knowing three sets of eyes were following him.

"D'artagnan," Athos warned, watching the boy carefully.

"I killed his brother," he finally said. "Out of self-defense, he was forcing himself onto my friend. I couldn't... I wouldn't allow him to get away with it," D'artagnan told them all and Aramis and Athos took a collective breath to digest what he had just said.


	10. Chapter 10

"D'artagnan, you listen to me," Athos began a few moments later when he saw D’artagnan digging himself into a pity of self-hatred. "I do not blame you for Tomás' actions, you were young and protecting your friend. You did what you had to and that does not change who you are today. What happened to me happened, but I will live," Athos said and D'artagnan locked eyes with him, seeing the determination in Athos' eyes but also the pain he was in. 

"If it was the other way around, would you forgive yourself? If it was me in that bed over something you had done in your past, could you so easily take the blame off yourself like you are asking me to?" D'artagnan asked, trying to get his point across. Aramis straightened slightly, glancing towards Porthos who gave him a pained expression.   
The boy had got Athos trapped.

Athos took a breath, allowing himself time to figure out his words before answering D'artagnan's question. 

"No, I couldn't," Athos told him, causing D'artagnan to begin pacing once again. "But unlike you, I wouldn't go running off into danger," Athos said and D'artagnan paused, tilting his head to look at Athos who gave him a raised eyebrow and a knowing look. 

"I wasn't planning to," D'artagnan began on the defence but Athos interrupted him. 

"You forget how long I've known you," he said. He understood every look D'artagnan gave, every twitch of a muscle and what response he was going to give. It was only natural Athos could tell D'artagnan was planning revenge, or something running along that line. 

"You should get some rest," D'artagnan said before turning and walking out, the three watching him as he left. 

Athos let out a sigh, leaning further back into the beds headboard and closing his eyes briefly. The dull pain was slowly making its way back to him, crawling under his skin as if getting ready to pounce any second. 

"Wine?" Athos asked, hoping that the red liquid would help ease the pain. He opened his eyes to catch a look between Aramis and Porthos and let out another sigh. 

"I'll get it myself," he said, pushing up from the bed to only wince and grunt from the pain. 

"I told you to take it easy," Aramis said, moving over to gently push Athos back down to the bed. "You've been through a lot, you have to let your body regain strength before you start moving around," Aramis told him and Athos suppressed the eye-roll. 

"You need some food down you before wine," Porthos said, pushing up from where he sat on the bed and moving towards the door. "I'll see if Serge can cook up something for you," he said before disappearing out the door.

"You need to keep an eye on him," Athos said a few moments later and Aramis looked across at him, knowing full well he was talking about D'artagnan.

"He's not going to stop blaming himself any time soon," Aramis said and Athos nodded.

"I know, I'm just worried what it will do to him," he replied, glancing away from the door and across at Aramis. The marksman gave him a sad smile before lowering himself slowly into the chair next to the bed, wincing slightly from the pain. 

"How's the shoulder?" Athos asked. 

"A little stiff but I've had worst, luckily you're a terrible shot," Aramis joked, smirking at Athos who simply stared at him. Aramis chuckled, leaning back in the chair and propping his feet up on Athos' bed. 

"You'll have to teach me to be better for next time," Athos dryly responded.

"Why? Are you planning on shooting me again?" Aramis asked, a hand going to his chest as he pretended to be offended by Athos' words. 

"Depends," he replied with a small hint of a smirk on his lips. 

"On what?" 

"How annoying you are," Athos finished and Aramis rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head. 

"Even on deaths door you're still a humorous little shi-"

"Who said I was dying?" Athos interrupted and Aramis gave him a look which caused him to pause, finally taking in Aramis' physical state.

He had dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep and the stress. His hair was more ruffled than usual and his smile wasn't a bright as it normally was, and there was something haunting in his eyes instead. 

If this was what Aramis looked like physically, Athos hated to think what mental strain this whole situation was having on his brother. 

"I'm fine," Aramis said, seeing the way Athos was looking at him. "You're the one who can't sit up without help," Aramis stated in a matter of fact tone. 

"So you keep telling me," Athos said before leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "I'm sorry Aramis," he said a few moments later, glancing across at Aramis who simply smiled at him. 

"You were drugged Athos, delusional... It's understandable what happened and it's not your fault," Aramis said and Athos shook his head slightly. 

"I still did it," Athos replied, glancing down at his own chest that was wrapped in white bandages. 

"You're sounding an awful lot like our young friend," Aramis commented, raising an eyebrow at Athos and allowing a small smirk to rise on his face. 

"I hate you," the swordsman dryly replied and Aramis chuckled at him. 

"Same here," Aramis said and the two locked eyes. Athos couldn't help but allow a small smile to appear as Aramis grinned at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reviews and kudos, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it. Next chapter will be up early next week hopefully :)


	11. Chapter 11

D'artagnan struggled with his grief over the next few days, throwing himself into training with the younger recruits, who instantly regretted agreeing to spar with him.

Many of the recruits would limp off after their defeat by D'artagnan, grumbling a few unpleasant remarks towards the Gascon.

D'artagnan would just step back slightly; roll his shoulders and gesture for the next sad recruit to step in front of him. Reluctantly, they kept coming, knowing they needed the training but not wanting to sustain any injuries from doing so.

D'artagnan would swing his sword twice before readying himself into the fighting position Athos had taught him many years back; side facing, back foot on the ball of his feet and left arm slightly out in front for balance when moving in the fight.

He lost himself in his training, allowing it to drown his thoughts and keep him occupied. It meant that he wouldn't think about what happened to Athos, that he wouldn't replay the image of Athos stumbling into the garrison with a pistol aimed at him. It meant he wouldn't see Athos trembling in his bed as they tried to patch him up or the shell of a man Athos had been only a few days ago.

By throwing himself into his training, the thoughts of what Tomás did to Athos weren't able to get to him and his anger and guilt was kept in check. It worked for a while, allowing him peace for only a moment before slowly and surely he started to feel the guilt growing, dragging him down.

He had kept his distance from Athos, checking in on the man when he was asleep and asking for updates from Aramis and Porthos. He couldn't stand the guilt he felt every time he looked at the injured man yet wanted to know if he was ok.

Treville watched from the balcony with narrowed eyes as a growing concern nagged away at him. He had to do something about D'artagnan's guilt but he didn't know what, with Athos still bedridden D'artagnan was sure to still be beating himself up.

He watched over the training session for a little while longer before moving to check on Athos who was currently being looked after by Aramis; Porthos had been called away for duty at the palace that day.

"What? Are you going to shoot me again if I say no?" Treville heard Aramis ask as he walked into Athos' room. Aramis was stood hovering over Athos who was struggling to get out of his bed.

"Hand me a pistol, I'll happily do it," Athos grumbled back as Aramis gave him a look, hand moving to Athos' shoulder to push the swordsman back down.

"Everything alright?" Treville asked, drawing both men's attention away from their slight argument and to him instead.

"Of course Captain," Aramis replied at the same time Athos bluntly said no in such a manner Treville raised an eyebrow at him.

"No, Captain," Athos corrected himself before glaring back at Aramis.

"Care to explain?" Treville asked, closing the door behind him and taking a few steps into the room.

"Athos here wants to go for a walk to which I have politely replied that he is in no state to go wondering around the garrison," Aramis said as Athos pushed the marksman's hand from off his good shoulder. He slumped slightly, knowing Aramis was right but hating to admit it.

"Politely?" Athos snorted under his breath before glancing up at Treville. "I need air. Being trapped up in this room it's..." Athos wondered off, pushing back memories of his time in Tomás grip.

Athos had woke with a start that morning, his body covered in sweat and breathing heavily. He tried to shake the memories of his time in Tomás' grip; however his sleep was plagued with nightmares. Nightmares so real Athos had trouble in making out what was reality and what was not. Aramis' hand on his shoulder had grounded him yet he needed air, his chest tight and heart beat hammering hard against his chest.

"It's quite boring," Athos finished, glancing at Aramis who gave him a sad and pained look. Aramis felt for his brother, wanting nothing more than to help Athos but the man was simply still too weak to be moving around the garrison.

"You've only just been able to sit up by yourself, Athos," Aramis said, trying to get across his point. "You need to be careful, I'm only looking out for you," the medic said and Treville hummed in agreement.

"Captain!" Porthos called from outside and Treville turned to step outside, finding Porthos walking down the hall towards him. Athos tried to move, pushing himself up to stand from the bed.

"What is it?" Treville asked as Aramis moved to lean against the doorframe to listen, Porthos locking eyes with him for a brief second. Aramis saw the concern in the man's eyes with a hint of… of fear?

"You need to read this," Porthos said, holding out the opened letter in his hand and his body tense from what he had read. Treville glanced down at it before taking it from Porthos, narrowing his eyes at the larger musketeer.

"It's from Tomás," Porthos said and before Treville could reply they heard a crash from inside Athos' room. Aramis span around, swearing in Spanish before calling Athos' name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reviews and the kudos, I really appreciate them. Next chapter should hopefully be up early next week so until then :)


	12. Chapter 12

"Athos!" Aramis called, turning and rushing back into the room where Athos was slumped on the floor, face down. 

  
"I'm fine," Athos grumbled softly as he tried pushing himself up onto all fours, after he had not so gracefully fallen out of bed. 

  
His arms shook as they tried holding up most of his weight and his gunshot wound throbbed painfully; he just hoped he hadn't pulled the stitches out since it wouldn't go down well with Aramis. He hated to admit it but Aramis had been right, he shouldn't have tried getting out of bed on his own. 

  
"Clearly," Aramis replied. "I'm not even going to say I told you so," he said as he took Athos gently by the arm and helped him stand. 

  
"You just did," Athos said, glancing at him and giving him a look to which Aramis simply grinned at. They both sat on the bed, Aramis with a hand on Athos' shoulder as the swordsman tried to get his breathing under control. 

  
Treville stepped in with Porthos following, both looking at Athos with concerned expressions. 

  
"I'm fine," he told them again, feeling their eyes on him and wanting nothing more but for them to stop tip toeing around him. 

  
The door opened moments later, D'artagnan walking in with a slight alertness about him. 

  
"Is everything alright? I heard you shout," D'artagnan said, looking at Aramis who smiled softly at the boy. 

  
"Everything's fine, Athos just had a brief relationship with the floor," he said with a grin and Athos forced himself not to roll his eyes. 

  
Treville watched him carefully and Athos was determined not to show any weakness, he straightened his back and held his head high. 

  
"The letter," Athos said and Treville seemed to hesitate before sighing and lifting the letter up to read aloud. 

  
"Captain, by now I am sure your man has told you about what happened and I am sure you have many questions for me. Why I did it is probably one of the many or where am I hiding. I, however, have one for you," Treville said, pausing as he glanced at the next sentence. He looked up at D'artagnan who was watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. 

  
He took a silent breath in before continuing. 

  
"Would you give up your youngest to save the rest?" Treville said and D'artagnan let his head drop before walking over to the chair at the table and sinking into it. Porthos moved over to the lad, hand resting on D'artagnan's shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

  
"I want my revenge, either send him to me at the old mill on the outskirts of Paris or I'll send my men to come get him and kill anyone who gets in their way, and this time they won't take the wrong one," Treville finished reading, glancing up from the letter and at D'artagnan who seemed to have sunk further and further into his chair. 

  
The room fell silent while everyone took a moment to allow the letter to sink in.

  
"Who gave you this?" Treville then asked, looking over at Porthos who straightened up. 

  
"I was on my way back from the palace when some blonde breaded  man wearing all black blocked my path," Porthos informed them, still staying right next to D'artagnan to try and comfort him silently. 

  
"Did he say anything to you?" Treville asked, wanting to know every detail. 

  
Porthos seemed to hesitate in speaking, glancing down at D'artagnan with sorrow in his eyes before looking across at Athos. 

  
"He just said that Tomás was a man of his words," Porthos said, looking up at Treville who took in a deep breath. 

  
"Don't you dare," Athos suddenly said as he saw D'artagnan twitch, about to rise from the chair and likely walk out the room. 

  
Athos glanced across at him and they locked eyes. A silent conversation occurred between the two and after a few moments more D'artagnan simply slumped back into his chair. 

  
"The man wants me, not you Athos," D'artagnan said, with no emotion within him at all as if he was too tired to argue. 

  
"All for one," Athos said and D'artagnan looked up at him, locking eyes and looking at Athos as if to say I knew you would play that card. 

  
"If it means his men won't come and try to kill us all then..." D'artagnan wondered off, he would never go against the musketeer motto. 

  
"Then what?" Athos asked. "You're just going to wonder off into the night and expect to be able to fight all his men?" Athos asked, his voice raised slightly before he forced himself to take a breath. Porthos stepped forward as if to protect D'artagnan. 

  
"We know they're coming," Porthos began. "They've lost the element of surprise. We simply wait and prepare for their attack," Porthos said and Aramis nodded in agreement. 

  
D'artagnan glance across at Athos before being unable to look at him any more. He could practically feel the guilt eating away at him every time he saw the bruises covering Athos' face or the way he gingerly held himself, left arm against his ribs to try and not aggravate his ribs from where Treville had shot him. 

  
"D'artagnan?" Porthos asked, glancing over his shoulder at the lad and waiting for an answer.   
He had no choice, his brothers wouldn't let him go. He knew if they were in his position, he wouldn't let them go either. 

  
"Fine, we'll wait," he said before pushing up to stand and leaving, wanting to get to his room to rest.   
Porthos sighed, taking up D'artagnan's vacated seat and stretching his legs out in front of him. 

  
"He's going to do something stupid isn't he?" Porthos more stated than asked and Aramis simply hummed.

  
"But we're going to stop him," Treville said, giving them all a look before leaving for his office. Athos winced as he moved to sit further up his bed, instantly regretting it as both of his bothers attention was quickly drawn to him. 

  
"You alright?" Porthos asked, standing and moving over to the bed. 

  
"I'm fine," Athos said for what felt like the twentieth time that day. Aramis gave him a raised eyebrow before standing, hands going to Athos' shirt to inspect his wound. 

  
"I said I'm fine," Athos finally snapped, pushing away Aramis' hands. "I don't need you hovering over me all the time," Athos said, his voice harsh. Aramis paused, hands drawing back slightly as Porthos frowned at the injured man.

  
Athos let out a shaky breath before briefly closing his eyes, guilt from having snapped at his friend taking over him. 

  
_They're only trying to help_ , Athos told himself before opening his eyes again to look at them both. 

  
"I'm sorry," Athos said, looking down at the bed while Aramis shook his head slightly. 

  
"It's understandable," he replied with a soft smile, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're feeling helpless with your injury and we're feeling helpless since we can't heal you quicker," Aramis said. 

  
"It'll take time," Porthos added and Athos just nodded before allowing Aramis to look at his wound which, thank god, he hadn't torn the stitches due to his slight stumble out of his bed. 

  
"It's just..." Athos wandered off while Aramis put a fresh bandage over his injury. He felt his chest go tight as he struggled for words, unable to find the right ones to say to them.

  
"You want to heal quicker, we get it," Porthos said, having sat back down in the chair at the table, studying Athos through slightly narrowed eyes. "Also, what Tomás did to you... It's going to take a while to recover from it all," he said and Athos glanced up at him, thankful that Porthos knew him so well to know what he was trying and failing to say. 

  
"And we'll be here to get you both, you and D'artagnan, through it all," Aramis said and Athos just sighed, resting his head back and finally allowing his brothers to look after him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt Porthos needed a bit of love and attention, more with him next chapter as well. Thank you for the kudos and reviews, they make my day. next chapter later this week hopefully :)


	13. Chapter 13

It was early morning, the sun only just rising and most of Paris was still asleep, with only a few people getting ready for their day.

D'artagnan cracked his door open slightly and peered out, seeing everything was silent outside in the garrison before stepping out.

He slugged his jacket on further over his shoulders, securing his pauldron on his right shoulder before he made his way out into the courtyard.

He went and sat down on the table by the bottom of the stairs, taking up his usual seat. He stayed there for a while, staring at the stables and contemplating what he should do.

He had needed to get out of his room and get some fresh air, wanting to clear his mind after a restless nights sleep.

He wasn't going to leave, he couldn't do it. He couldn't do that to Athos or the others, he would stay and fight alongside them even when the guilt of everything that had happened weigh heavy on his shoulders.

He was drawn from his thoughts when he felt someone watching him from the gates. He turned to catch a blonde breaded man dressed all in black staring at him.

The man suddenly turned and disappeared from the entrance.

D'artagnan was on his feet in seconds, moving after the man without evening thinking of the consequences.

The blonde man stood waiting for D'artagnan at the end of the street, leaning against the nearest wall with his arms crossed.

"You decided yet?" The man said as D'artagnan came to a stop in front of him. The man titled his head to study D'artagnan through narrowed eyes.

"Decided that Tomás, you and the rest of his men are going to pay for what you've done to my friends," D'artagnan asked, holding his chin high as the man simply smiled at him.

"Tomás was right about you," the man said, pushing up from the building and taking a few steps towards D'artagnan. "So quick tempered and... Reckless nearly," he said, coming to stop in front of D'artagnan.

D'artagnan took a deep breath, allowing the man's words to wash over him.

"You're really going to let your friends _die for you_ , I mean one nearly has already," the man said and D'artagnan glared at the blonde, knowing he was trying to get to him.

He had to admit that he was angry with himself for letting the man succeed.

"You have an hour to decide, Tomás will be waiting," the blonde man said before he turned and walked away.

D'artagnan took a deep breath, relaxing his fists before turning and heading back to the still quiet garrison. He made his way silently over to the stables and entered to find his horse, saddling him up before pausing.

 _You're protecting them_ , D'artagnan thought to himself before he walked out of the stables.

He glanced up at the Captain's office before taking a breath, his hand subconsciously moving to the hilt of his sword.

It was better this way, he didn't want anyone else to get hurt. He had to do this himself, it was the only way.

So with the thought of protecting his brothers, of protecting Athos, he walked out of the garrison gates.

Once out in the streets of Paris he pulled himself onto his horse and rode out to find Tomás.

He got to the outskirts of Paris and found the old mill, jumping down from his horse and tying him to a tree before making the rest of the journey on foot.

He creeped down the path along the small river, crouching low and eyes scanning the area to look for any of Tomás' men. He glanced towards the mill and saw a flickering of a dying fire through the open window, a man passed by inside, glancing out to the forest.

D'artagnan paused, hoping he was covered by the trees. The man glanced around before turning and continuing on. He let out a sigh of relief but before he could continue with his plan, a click of a pistol behind him sounded and D'artagnan mentally swore at himself.

* * *

"I was wondering when you we're going to show up," Tomás said as the blonde breaded man who had found D'artagnan in the woods roughly pushed him forward.

He stumbled and fell to the dusty ground on all fours, growling in frustration. He was quickly on his feet and turned to glare at the man.

"Leave us," Tomás then said, pushing himself up from the doorframe that lead into the mill.

His men disappeared inside the mill and the two were left in silence with only the soft breeze of the morning disturbing the some what peace within the forest.

"Bit idiotic of you to come alone... Or did you think you could take my men on singlehandedly?" Tomás questioned and D'artagnan's hands balled up into fists.

"I only need to take on one," D'artagnan said and Tomás smirked at him. D'artagnan had to use all his willpower to not step forward and punch the smug smirk off of Tomás' face.

After all these years he was finally in front of the man and D'artagnan couldn't help feeling guilty all of a sudden.

He had killed his brother after all.

He shook himself when he thought of what Tomás' brother had done and what Tomás himself had done to Athos.

"Prepare to fight," D'artagnan said, suddenly drawing his sword and pointing it towards Tomás. "One of us dies here," he said, his words bringing forward the memory of his first meeting with the Inseparables.

God he regretted coming on his own now that he thought about it, no turning back though now.

Tomás laughed at him before his face set into a stern look, narrowing his eyes at the boy.

"I have to admit, you're pretty damn determined," Tomás said before he sighed and withdrew his own blade.

D'artagnan got himself into the fighting position and tried to channel Athos, calm and collected... Focused.

 _Think with your head, not your heart_ , a voice sounding a lot like Athos spoke up in his head.

"I wonder what your friends back at the garrison will think when they find you dead at their doorstep," Tomás said, trying to get under D'artagnan skin and frustrate him.

He simply took a breath before setting his gaze, watching Tomás and looking for signs of his first move.

"It's a shame they couldn't say goodbye, Athos will be devastated," Tomás said as they began to move, circling each other and waiting to see who would strike first. "I mean the man was so damn determined to stop anything from happening to you, it's like he's taken you under his wing," Tomás said.

"He screamed you know," Tomás said a few moments later. "Screamed for it to stop, for more drugs, practically begged for them when the pain got to much for him to handle," Tomás said.

"You're lying," D'artagnan snapped before restraining himself.

_Head not heart, focus._

"I assure you I'm not," Tomás relied with a smirk. "My men tore into him every morning and every night, bruising him and beating him into unconsciousness. He never gave up though, I have to admit it was quite heartwarming how much he cared for you, how much he endured just to keep you safe...It's amazing he's still alive actually after everything my men put him through," and he paused for a second as if to think. "Maybe it was to do with his protectiveness over you," Tomás suggested and D'artagnan suddenly saw the shift of weight, the subtle adjustment of Tomás grip on his sword.

The man suddenly came swinging and D'artagnan gritted his teeth, he was ready.


	14. Chapter 14

_The door was forced open, swinging to hit the wall behind and cause Athos to flinch from the sudden loud noise._

_He curled further in on himself as if to protect his body from what he knew was to come. He knew it wasn't going to be nice, it never was._

_He was grabbed before he could even register what was happening, being hauled to his feet roughly. He stood there, swaying dangerously between two of Tomás' men and without them Athos knew he would have collapsed to the floor._

_He was too weak to sit up let alone walk, legs shaking from the strain of baring his weight. He flinched when a scraping sound echoed loudly through his cell, Tomás slowly dragging a chair into the room._

_The man placed it against the opposite wall and sat down, crossing one leg over the other with his hands folded gently in his lap._

_"Morning," he simply said and Athos gritted his teeth, weakly pulling at the guards hold on him which was just a failure in trying to break free._

_His mind was fogged over in confusion, the drug they kept giving him messing with his thoughts and making everything unclear._

_He needed to focus._

_However, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop Tomás' face from blurring._

_"How are you feeling?" Tomás asked in a soft spoken tone as if the man was taking to his friend. It made anger boil within Athos while also making him want to throw up. Athos simply gave the man his best glare in reply. Tomás chuckled slightly at what Athos knew was a weak attempt at one._

_Tomás locked eyes with one of the guards and suddenly said man slammed a fist into Athos' stomach, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him gasping for air. The two guards then stood back, releasing their hold on Athos who swayed on shaky legs before a harsh push from one of the guards had him collapsing to the ground rather harshly._

_"Such a pity you know," Tomás said, standing up with his cloak brushing behind him as he swiftly moved over. He grabbed Athos by his shirt, roughly pulling Athos up to look at him._

_"Such a pity," Tomás said again, his free hand coming to brush Athos' cheek with his index finger so delicately but still managing to make him flinch away. "The most talented musketeer is brought to his knees with a few punches and a, if I do say so myself, mild drug," Tomás snarled awfully close to Athos that the swordsman flinched away again, wanting anything more than to be hundreds of miles away from this man._

_He grimaced as Tomás breath brushed against his face, forcing down the feeling of throwing up._

_Another punch and Athos was gasping for air, then another and another. He couldn't make out which was a kick and which was a punch or where they were hitting him. The pain was throbbing from every part of his body and making it impossible to pin point where it actual hurt. He simply curled up on himself to try and limit the damage caused by the beating on his already weak body._

_He didn't know how long he could last but he had to last for D'artagnan's sake, he had to protect the boy from this awful man._

* * *

Porthos sat at the table in Athos' room, having woken up in the middle of the night from a bad dream.

He had needed to make sure his brother was safe, that Athos was alright and still breathing, that Athos was actually there with them and that Porthos hadn't just imagine Athos stumbling back into their lives.

The two weeks searching for Athos had been torture, pure torture, not knowing where he was or what was happening to him had eaten away at them every day.

Porthos never wanted to feel like that again... Completely hopeless and lost, with no clear direction in saving their brother. The last time he had felt so broken was when they heard the news of Savoy and that all their men had been slaughtered. He had spent days forcing himself to not break down, to stay positive, while part of him feared the worst. To have Aramis stumble back to them, broken and a shell of a man; it had taken time for things to heal. Then to feel so lost again with Athos going missing...  
It wasn't right just three of them.

So after what Porthos didn't want to call, but knew it was, a nightmare, he ended up sitting at the table in Athos' room, staring up at the ceiling and not thinking at all. He just listened to the calm breathing of his sleeping brother, allowing it to ease his racing mind.

The subtle shift of Athos' breathing caught Porthos' attention, drawing him away from following the patterns on the wood ceiling.

He rose from the chair as Athos' head twitched to one side, the man suddenly mumbling something under his breath.

Porthos only noticed then the sweat covering Athos' body and the pained expression his face was pinched into. He swore at himself for not noticing sooner and quickly made his way over to the bed.

"Athos?" He gently asked, a hand moving to Athos' shoulder to shake it gently.

Athos' eyes snapped open the second Porthos had touched him and he violently flinched away from the larger musketeer, a fist coming up and hovering an inch away from Porthos' face.

Athos' eyes were unfocused and filled with fear. His body was tense, rigid from the nightmare he had been having and seemed to be still stuck within.

"Athos?" Porthos asked fearfully, trying to snap Athos out of whatever had a hold of him back in that nightmare. Porthos knew what it had been about and hated to think how bad it had been to make Athos lose his sense of his surroundings.

Athos suddenly blinked before realising what he was doing and exactly who was leaning over him. His hand dropped in a second and he started mumbling out a sorry.

"I didn't know it was you," he said, slowly pushing himself up to sit and wincing slightly from his still healing wounds.

"It's fine," Porthos said before leaning back and moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "How you feeling?"

"Better than I look, trust me," Athos joked, knowing he looked a mess. He hadn't washed in a few days, his hair more messy and greasy than usual. He knew he was covered in sweat from the nightmare and that he had bags under his eyes that were as dark as his bruises that ran along his beaten body.

Porthos gave him a small yet sad smile in reply.

"Sorry I'm in your room. Couldn't sleep," Porthos said to change the subject and Athos shook his head slightly, waving a hand as if to wave the apology away.

"It's fine," he replied before slumping slightly against the beds headrest, closing his eyes and rubbing a hand over his face gently, trying not to brush against any of the bruises on his face. He hadn't had a peaceful night sleep in weeks now, and his body ached for it.

"Athos," Porthos began, breaking through to the injured man once again and causing Athos to look up at him.

Porthos took a breath, thinking and ordering his words carefully.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He finally settled for and Athos stared at him for a few seconds.

Porthos could have predicted his reaction; this was Athos after all, the man kept everything bottled up, except his wine, opting to drink that down quickly and in silence.

Athos blinked, finally managing to get his brain in gear and come up with a response to Porthos' question.

"No, not really," he said, swearing at himself when his voice broke slightly. "Not yet anyway," he added and Porthos nodded in understanding, wanting to give Athos space and not pressurise him into talking.

They had no clue what Tomás had done to Athos except from beating and drugging him, the amount of mental impact of this on Athos was unknown to them.

Before Porthos could talk about his visit to the palace yesterday, wanting to change the subject and keep Athos' mind occupied, the door was pushed open rather forcefully.

"Have you seen D'artagnan, I can't find anywhere?" Aramis asked as he walked into the room, slight concern lanced in his voice. He paused when he saw the look on both Porthos and Athos' face, realising then he had interrupted something.

He saw the state Athos was in, skin pale and shining with sweat, most likely from a nightmare. Aramis just wanted to go over to him and hug him, tell him everything was alright. He would have done if it wasn't for the fear of hurting the injured man or from Athos punching him in response.

"No, I thought he was with you," Porthos said, breaking Aramis from his thoughts.

"Yes we were supposed to be training today, wanted to test my shoulder out after... You know," Aramis wondered off.

"After I shot you," Athos helped out and Aramis grimaced slightly. "Go on," Athos then said.

"Well he's not in his room or in the mess hall... Plus, his horse is missing," Aramis said, his voice awfully steady as he spoke but there was a slight hint of worry and fear building up within it.

"Tomás," Athos simply mumbled and they all locked eyes for a split second, knowing what had happened. Aramis and Porthos moved quickly, Aramis shouting back to Athos to stay put while they go search for D'artagnan.

Athos sighed, growling in frustration with himself for being unable to help.

He began to argue with himself over whether or not he should actually listen to Aramis' advice. He wouldn't be of any use if he did go after them and he probably wouldn't make it to the door before he passed out if he was to follow anyway.

He slumped back into the bed, trying awfully hard to not think about the danger D'artagnan was in.  
He finally decided to ignore the voice in his head that told him to stay, incidentally it sounded a lot like Aramis, and decided to get out of his bed.

He wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to D'artagnan and he hadn't be there to stop it.


	15. Chapter 15

D'artagnan grunted in pain, his grip on Tomás' blade, which was pointed directly down at his chest, was slipping. His gloves were slowly losing the battle with the sword as the sharp edges dug into the leather, slicing D'artagnan's palms and causing them to sting with pain.

He laid on his back, having let Tomás get the upper hand for a brief second and the man having snatched it instantly. He swore at himself for letting it happen, knowing he should have been better. Athos was his teacher after all, and now he had foolishly let the man get the better of him.

Head over heart, Athos' voice said calmly in his mind. Focus.

Tomás stood over him, pressing his weight down on the sword in hopes to piece it through D'artagnan's chest. The tip was slowly inching its way further towards D'artagnan's chest.

Think, how was he going to get out of this.

"No-one is going to save you," Tomás snarled and D'artagnan could see the hatred boiling within Tomás eyes towards him.

If no-one was coming to save him, then he would save himself. His eyes shot a glance towards his sword that laid inches away from him, in arms reach but currently he had no hands free to grab it.

"I'll get my men to dump your body at the entrance to the garrison, might do it myself... That will truly destroy the musketeers," Tomás said as he pressed down harder on his sword, causing the tip to brush against D'artagnan's shirt and then skin, drawing blood.

D'artagnan's breathing hitched as he faced death yet again. He had never been scared of dying; always knowing being a musketeer was a risky job and knew death followed them all. He had just always hoped it was in his old age with the woman he loved or on the battlefield in war, fighting for his country with his brothers, not in the middle of a forest by a man from his past.

However, he was not willing to accept death just yet, not willing to allow death to take him so easily.

He was going to fight.

His mind raced with ways he could get out of this, nearly all ending with him dying. He needed his sword.

"Everything Athos suffered through was for nothing, I want you to know that before you die," Tomás told him and D'artagnan locked eyes with the man for a second. Tomás had the confidence to smirk down at him, which seemed to push D'artagnan's determination to survive further.

God dammit he wasn't going to die, Athos would be angry with him for dying before he could kill D'artagnan himself for going off without them.

He glanced towards his sword again, eyeing up the protection it gave him. He needed his sword. So, he made a quick judgement and a painful one at that.

With all his effort he pushed Tomás' sword to the left ever so slightly that the tip was brushing over his shoulder before letting go.

The sword pieced forceful through his skin and muscle, causing him to cry out in pain and squeeze his eyes shut tightly.

However, he had no time to waste. He quickly grabbed his sword from the right, twisting it around effortlessly and thrusting it towards Tomás' with all the strength he had left.

The sword went through Tomás' side, piecing his lungs and causing him to gasp. Blood suddenly splatter from the man's month, landing on D'artagnan's face and clothes. The musketeer grimaced before quickly withdrawing his sword, causing Tomás to fall to the ground next to him dead.

D'artagnan dropped his sword to the ground before gripping Tomás' blade and pulling it from his shoulder.

He bit the inside of his cheek, tears forming in his eyes from the pain.

Tomás' sword fell down next to his own, landing with a heavy crash before he used his now free right hand to press down on the bleeding wound.

God that hurt.

He heard footsteps behind him and the angry cry of Tomás' men as they came running out of the mill.

D'artagnan took a breath as he readied himself for what was about to come.

He could fight, and he would, but the odds were awfully against him winning.

He rolled onto his stomach with all the effort he could muster, grabbing the pistol from Tomás' belt. Ten men, he could do this.

He aimed and fired, hitting his mark before throwing the pistol to the side and fumbling to grab his own backup knife from his boot.

The tip of a sword pressed against his neck stop him in his tracks. He glanced up to see the blonde breaded man glaring down at him, sword held tightly in his hand.

"I'd kill you but... Sadly, you're just too valuable," the blonde said, a grin forming on his lips.

Two men came next to D'artagnan and hauled him up to stand. He couldn't help but cry out in pain, biting down on his lip to stop himself from crying out. He swayed unsteadily on his feet, a wave of dizziness washing over him.

He managed to regain his balance before his hands were tied behind him with rope and he was pushed towards the mill.

Once inside he was pushed forward, causing him to stumble forward and thus lose his footing. He landed harsh on his side, groaning as the pain coursed through his body.

Athos had worst, D'artagnan thought to himself before pushing himself up to kneel.

The blonde man, who D'artagnan had heard someone call him Nicolás, suddenly stepped forward and slammed a kick into D'artagnan's ribs.

He fell down in a second, landing harsh on the ground and squeezing his eyes shut. He swallowed down the pain, telling himself to stay calm.

He could do this.


	16. Chapter 16

"This just seems too familiar," Porthos mumbled as they followed the trail of footprints in the forest. "We can't lose him, not for as long as..." Porthos wondered and Aramis knew what he was thinking.

Athos. This is how they had tried looking for the swordsman last time when they had caught a trail with it only ending in failure, every time. Each trail ended with disappointment followed by anger in not being able to get to their brother in need.

"We know he's at the old mill, we'll get to him," Aramis said, yet Porthos seemed weary.

"What if they're already gone," Porthos said, looking down at the footprints they were following.

"Stop. We'll find him," Aramis said, flashing a smile at his brother but knew it did no good at reassuring him.

"Yeah," Porthos mumbled.

They had found D'artagnan's horse back up the path tied to a tree, tying their own up before continuing on foot. Porthos looked up, suddenly freezing and lifting up a hand.

Aramis stopped, following his gaze and saw the old mill, surrounded by trees and deadly silence.

They moved to crouch near the closest tree, eyes fixed on the old mill for any signs of movement.

"Tomás," Porthos said, pointing to the body laying lifeless on the ground.

"At least we know D'artagnan survived the fight," Aramis said.

That's when they heard it, the cry of pain echoing through the trees. They both winced the second they realised who had cried.

"D'artagnan," Porthos whispered, glancing at Aramis. They both saw determination within the other's eyes before they set out towards the mill.

They crouched by the window, Aramis glancing in to see D'artagnan on the ground, curled up on himself and hands tied behind his back. He saw the slow rising and falling of his brother's chest and sighed in relief.

"He's alive," Aramis whispered and saw Porthos briefly close his eyes.

Porthos then glanced in, eyes going straight towards the blonde breaded man. His hand balled up into fists as he tried to restrain his anger.

"We need a plan of attack," Aramis said. Porthos kept watching to see the blonde man withdraw his sword and press it against D'artagnan neck.

"Attack," he simply said before making his way towards the door to the mill. Aramis sighed before following, knowing it was the only way.

* * *

"D'artagnan! Move!" Aramis' voice suddenly shouted from the door and D'artagnan followed the order; rolling out the way of Nicolas' sword swinging close to his head.

D'artagnan felt a wave of relief wash over him as Aramis quickly cut down one of the enemies coming for D'artagnan by throwing his dagger. He then withdrew his pistol and fired at the second opponents chest, hitting its mark perfectly.

Porthos fired and hit one of the men in the shoulder, taking him out of the fight. Both musketeers then withdrew their swords for the fight.

D'artagnan shifted, trying to grab his knife from his boot while having his hands tied. He managed to grab it and began cutting at the rope.

He quickly turned just as one of Tomás' men lunged for him. He quickly pulled this hands free from the now loose rope and managed to slam the knife into the man's shoulder, pulling it out before slicing the man's throat who then ungracefully landed on top of D'artagnan.

Aramis quickly ran over to his fallen comrade, skidding down to his knees next to him. He pushed the man off of D'artagnan before looking down at his brother.

"D'artagnan?" Aramis asked. He cupped D'artagnan's cheek and tilted the man's face towards him.

"I-I'm alive," D'artagnan mumbled, blinking his eyes open to look up at Aramis' concerned expression.

"Behind you," Porthos shouted as he ran forward and cut down another of Tomás' men with ease.

Aramis turned and had just enough time to stand before one of the enemies tackled him to the ground. He winced in pain from his still healing shoulder wound but kept up a strong front, swallowing down the pain.

The man landed a punch in Aramis' face, causing him to sip blood.

Porthos growled in frustration as he tried his hardest to get to Aramis yet he was currently pinned down by the remaining three men.

D'artagnan rolled onto his front and reached for Aramis' abandoned sword, digging it into the ground to help him stand up. He then swung and hit the man currently beating Aramis up on the back. The man cried out in pain and Aramis took his chance.

Landing a punch against his attacker's jaw, Aramis then pushed the man off him to the side and clambered on top of him. He then slammed the man's head against the ground, knocking him unconscious.

D'artagnan slumped, waving Aramis' concern off and pointing to Porthos who had his back pinned up against the mill wall. Aramis grabbed his sword from D'artagnan and went running over. He dove into the fight for only a second later for D'artagnan to shout.

"Stop! Aramis, Porthos... Stop," his voice cracked slightly and the two musketeers stopped mid fight, their attackers doing also.

The turned to see Nicolás stood behind D'artagnan, holding the gascon close to protect himself while he pressed a knife against D'artagnan's neck.

D'artagnan was struggling to stand up, Aramis could see him weakening slightly but swallowed down his concern.

The last three attackers surrounded Aramis and Porthos, swords drawn and pointed at their necks. The man Porthos had shot in the shoulder had also pulled himself up to stand, aiming a pistol at Porthos' chest with shaking hands.

Porthos glanced at Aramis, the two silently having a conversation with each other.

_Got any ideas?_

_A few, but they might get us killed._

_Great._


	17. Chapter 17

Athos stumbled out of his room, having finally pulled himself up from off the ground and practically crawled his way to the door. He grabbed hold of the balcony railing to steady himself on his feet before glancing down into the courtyard.

He moved over to the stairs once he saw nothing out of place within the garrison.

"Athos?" Treville asked as he made his way up the stairs, having just got in from a morning meeting with the King. "What are you doing out of bed?" He asked, concern lanced in his voice.

"D'artagnan," Athos simply said and that one word caused a hard look to cross over Treville's face.

"He's gone," Treville more stated than asked and Athos could see the swirl of emotions in his Captain's eyes.

"Aramis and Porthos went after him," Athos said, pausing slightly as his world began to spin. This was the furthest he had walked from his bed since he had gotten back to the garrison and it was taking its toll on him.

"I'll organise some men and we'll head out after them," Treville said and Athos nodded, closing his eyes briefly to steady himself. "I'm not going to tell you to get back to bed but... You know you're not strong enough to come," Treville said and Athos just grunted, waving for Treville to go.

The Captain placed a hand on Athos' shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before heading back down the stairs, shouting for his men.

* * *

Under different circumstances Aramis would have spoken up but with a sword currently held against his neck and a pistol pressing against the back of his head, he thought better.

So instead, he allowed this Nicolás person to continue his speech while trying to not sigh with

boredom.

He could see ideas ticking over in Porthos' brain and the slight change in the man's hard expression whenever he came to a dead end.

How were they supposed to get out of this?

"You musketeers," Nicolás growled, drawing Aramis' attention away from Porthos.

The blonde's grip on his knife tightened and pressed down further on D'artagnan's neck, making D'artagnan shift slightly.

"Always causing trouble," he continued, glaring at Porthos and Aramis. "You could still be alive if you had just left your friend here and not come trailing after him," he said, giving D'artagnan a tug and causing him to whimper slightly.

"You don't know what loyalty is," D'artagnan growled out and Nicolás just gripped him tighter and pressed the knife harder against D'artagnan's neck.

It caused blood to drip down the side of D'artagnan's neck while also running onto the silver blade. If it caused D'artagnan pain he didn't show it, eyes set in determination.

Aramis saw the subtle shift in Porthos' weight and the larger musketeer's eyes dart towards the injured man pointing his pistol at him.

Porthos then locked eyes with D'artagnan who read the cue and took a breath, steadying himself for what was about to come.

Aramis set his jaw, knowing if they survived this he was going to kill D'artagnan for leaving the garrison and coming out here alone that was if he could get to the boy before Athos.

It happened in a flash, Porthos twisting ever so slightly to be able to grab the man behind him and pull him forward.

The injured man fired without a second thought, hitting his own comrade who Porthos then grabbed the small knife from and threw it at the injured man, taking him out as well.

Meanwhile, Aramis landed a harsh kick backwards which ended with a loud grunt in reply and the sword moving from his neck. He twisted and grabbed the sword, for only a second later a shot to ring right next to his ear.

Dizziness over took him and the next thing he knew he had a face full of dirt.

He could vaguely make out Porthos and D'artagnan shouting his name, making him want to get up and help fight.

An unfamiliar figure leant over him and Aramis could feel deaths grip tugging on him.

Before he could begin his pray to God the figure fell from view, Porthos having taken the man out. Aramis felt relief wash over him, the feeling mixing with the sense of wanting to throw up.

He had to help his brothers fight.

However, no matter how hard he tried, his legs and arms wouldn't respond to what his mind was telling them to do.

He blinked, pushing back the blurred vision before coughing. He managed to finally move his arms, pushing up to shake his head slightly to try and rid himself of the ringing.

It failed dramatically and Aramis was falling to lay on his back, staring up at the mill ceiling. He took in a steadying breath, the shouts and struggles of the fight around him barely making itself heard over the ringing in his ears and pounding of his head.

Eventually it died down, a dull and annoying ringing in the background with everything else suddenly rushing back to him.

"-mis!" A shout made its way through to him, snapping him from his daze and managing to register in his head. "Aramis!" The voice repeated, sounding a lot like Porthos.

Suddenly, his view of the ceiling was blocked by said man leaning over him with a concerned look. Before he knew it, a slight stinging pain flared up from his cheek as Porthos slap him into reality.

"Aramis! Focus yourself, god damn it," Porthos snapped, grabbing fists of Aramis' jacket and hauling him up to sit.

"D'artagnan?" Aramis questioned, blinking again to focus his blurry vision.

"Injured and needs your help," Porthos said before pulling Aramis up to stand, allowing the medic to lean most of his weight on him.

Aramis' eyes landed on D'artagnan who laid by Nicolás' side, the blonde man dead with a giant whole in his chest from where Porthos had shot him.

The two made their way over to D'artagnan, dropping ungracefully to their knees next to him. Aramis pressed his index and middle finger against D'artagnan's neck, feeling for a heartbeat.

Aramis let out a shaky breath before a smile appeared on his lips.

"He's alive," he said before he leant sideways and allowed Porthos to hold him up.

"Thank god," Porthos mumbled to himself, closing his eyes briefly before opening them at the sound of D'artagnan groaning.

"What did I miss?" D'artagnan asked, blinking up at them both. Aramis let out a shaky breath, a faint smile on his lips as he pushed back the ringing in his ears.

"Not much," Aramis said before leaning forward slightly to inspect D'artagnan's shoulder wound.

"We need medical supplies," Aramis said, not having brought any within the rush to come after his brother.

"I can make it back to the garrison," D'artagnan said and Porthos gave Aramis a weary look. The medic simply let out a tired sigh.

"Come on, let's get this idiot home," Porthos finally said, shifting slightly and glancing down at Aramis.

"You alright?" He asked and Aramis gave him a thumbs up, moving to stand, using Porthos' shoulder to steady himself.

Porthos then helped D'artagnan stand who bit his lip to stop himself from crying out in pain. Porthos steadied both his brothers before they made their way back to the Garrison.

"Can you ride?" Porthos asked D'artagnan who was leaning into him were they stop by their horses.

"The garrison isn't far away, I can make it," he said and Porthos glanced towards Aramis for his education opinion.

The man was leaning against the tree their horses were tied up against, trying to catch his breath and stop himself from throwing up.

"He'll make it," Aramis simply said. He had put a poorly fixed bandaged around D'artagnan's shoulder wound to help stop the bleeding but he really needed the medical supplies back at the garrison to treat it properly.

D'artagnan rode with Porthos, Aramis pulling along D'artagnan's horse as they made their way back into Paris, D'artagnan depending awfully on Porthos to keep him upright on the horse.

It worried both Aramis and Porthos deeply. They needed to get back to the garrison quickly before D'artagnan bled out on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so I'm so sorry for the very very very long wait, like I am so ashamed of myself. I'm terribly sorry. Anyway, I hope you guys liked this chapter and the next one will be up very soon. I don't even know if you guys are still interested in this story, if you are then review please :)


	18. Chapter 18

Athos paused at the balcony as he watched Treville and the musketeers get ready to head out, wanting nothing more than to go with them.

Swallowing hard, he made his way down the steps; a little less gracefully than he would have wished for. He got to the bottom of the steps, breathing heavy as he leant against the wooden railing for support.

He saw Treville glance at him from the corner of his eye, he could practically feel the concern radiating from his Captain.

Horses hooves suddenly sounded on the ground and Athos looked up to see Aramis and Porthos come trotting in, Porthos holding up an unconscious D'artagnan. Treville moved over to help lower D'artagnan down before Porthos swung a leg around his horse and jumped down.

"What happened? He is alright?" Athos asked, his heart in his throat as he saw the blood covering D'artagnan's shirt and face. The anger and annoyance that had built towards D'artagnan suddenly dropped the second Athos saw his injured brother.

"Stab wound to the shoulder,... and multiple less life threatening injuries," Aramis informed him as he batted away Porthos' help to get down from his horse. "I'm fine," he grumbled to the larger musketeer.

"T-Tomás is a... terrible swordsman," D'artagnan suddenly mumbled as he leant into Treville for support. "The bastard had it coming," he muttered before coughing and then wincing in response to the action of said cough.

"Get him to the medical room," Athos said, slipping into leader mode without realising it. He followed after them, forcing down the large amount of pain and dizziness he felt from walking around; the thought of protecting D'artagnan powered his adrenaline.

Porthos offered Aramis help and Aramis gladly took it this time, allowing Porthos to help him to the medical room.

Treville got D'artagnan sat in one of the chairs at the table and shirt off without much complaining from the Gascon. He was a nightmare to treat when injured. Porthos ordered Aramis to sit down and allow him to do the work.

"I can do it Porthos," Aramis said but a stern look for the larger musketeer had him sitting down in the chair next to D'artagnan and falling silent.

Aramis had to admit that he was thankful for Porthos as he was unsure if he could stay stood without passing out. The ringing in his ears was slowly fading but the dizziness was still there.

D'artagnan was slowly coming back around, becoming more alert and being able to sit up on his own without much swaying from dizziness.

"I can not believe you disobeyed orders and went running off after Tomás," Athos said from where he stood while Porthos cleaned out D'artagnan's wound, Treville pacing by the door.

The younger musketeer flinched as the alcohol hit his injured skin, causing him to squeeze his hands into fists and his eyes shut as a wave of dizziness threaten to drag him under.

"W-What... What did you expect me to do Athos... let him simply get away with it?" D'artagnan questioned after he had steadied himself and Athos let out a sigh, moving over to sit opposite him at the table, feeling his legs beginning to weaken. He realised then that this was as far as he had walked since his return to the garrison a week ago and it wasn't doing him any good.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the knots before dropping it to the table and looking across at D'artagnan.

"You could have died," Athos simply said.

"But I didn't," D'artagnan quickly responded, trying desperately hard to not cry out in pain from Porthos' work on fixing his shoulder.

God it hurt like hell.

Athos gave him a look to which D'artagnan simply smiled softly at, unfazed by the glare he was getting. Either Athos was slipping or his friends were getting used to his disapproving looks.

"I just can't stand losing you after everything that has happened already," Athos honestly said, surprising himself with how open he was. He blamed it on the tiredness, the stress and the pain he was currently in.

"I know, and I promise to not go against orders ever again, trust me on that," D'artagnan said before he groaned in pain, unable to keep it down anymore.

He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut tightly as if to try and force the pain away. Aramis leant forward in his chair, his hand going to take D'artagnan's and give it a reassuring squeeze.

"Almost done," Aramis said, as Porthos finally finishing stitching the wound and began to bandage him up. "Not as good as my needlework but it'll do," Aramis then added and Porthos glanced across at him with a glare which was suddenly replaced with a concerned expression.

"You're bleeding Aramis," Porthos said, finally seeing the blood leaking through and staining Aramis' shirt. He marksman glanced down to his shoulder before shaking his head slightly.

"It's nothing," he simply said before he got a look from all four of them, four sets of disapproving eyes zoning in on him.

"Aramis," Treville warned.

"Alright alright," he began with a sigh. "You can take a look if you really must," he grumbled and Treville moved over as Aramis gingerly removed his shirt, letting out a heavy sigh to emphasise his displeasure with all the fuss over a little tear of his healing injury.

"Honestly, it's fine," Aramis said, causing Treville to raise an eyebrow at him.

"You need it restitching," Treville said.

"See, I'm fine," Aramis said and Porthos didn't even hold back the eye roll.

Athos closed his eyes, both hands going to grip the table as his body slowly came down from the adrenaline high he had been riding on since his brothers had gotten back to the garrison.

He pushed the feeling of passing out deep down before taking a steadying breath and opening his eyes again.

D'artagnan was staring right at him under tired eyes, his left arm held against his side to not aggravate his injury.

"I'm sorry," D'artagnan said. "I'm sorry for everything Tomás did to you, I can't begin to imagine what happened to you and-"

"D'artagnan," Athos said, a hand coming up to stop him mid sentence. He couldn't deal with him apologising for something that wasn't his fault. Plus, the memories were still too raw to talk about just yet.

"And," D'artagnan continued on none the less and Athos closed his eyes, not able to look at his brother. "I want to say sorry for allowing Tomás to get to me, I shouldn't have gone. But Athos, the things he said about what they did to you..." He wondered off and Athos swallowed hard, forcing down emotions he didn't want to cope with just yet. "I guess what I want to say is thank you," and Athos opened his eyes at that.

What the hell had he done to make the boy thankful?

The confusion must have shown on his face because D'artagnan chuckled slightly.

"Thank you for being there for me. No matter what terrible state your in, you're always there," D'artagnan said and Athos took a calming breath, god this kid was going to give him a heart attack and make him go grey before his time but he loved the boy none the less.

He looked so young but was more aware and wise than most people Athos had met.

Athos nodded, unable to speak with the fear of his voice cracking. He was so not going to cry in front of them all. Aramis grinned at the two of them before locking eyes with Porthos.

"All for one?" Aramis asked and Porthos couldn't help but smile stupidly back at him while Treville rolled his eyes, simply continuing to stitch Aramis up.

Athos looked at Aramis before catching D'artagnan's eyes, seeing the boy grinning from ear to ear, eyes shining bright with love and affection for his comrades.

"And one for all," they said together.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this last chapter, hope you guys like it. I may do a sequel, if you guys would like. Thank you so much for the kudos and reviews, I really appreciate them.


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